


Love Triangles and Vicious Circles

by rubberglue



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lancelot is sad, Arthur is angry and although Gwen knows she’s the center of it all, she cannot remember why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Triangles and Vicious Circles

Mother was sick again.

Even from outside the house, Gwen could hear her coughing and wheezing. The townspeople came and petted her head, saying that Mother would get better but she knew that when they thought she wasn’t listening, they would whisper about how sad it was that Gwen would have to grow up without a mother.

She had heard Mr Lowry say that the purple flowers that could be found at the forest at the edge of Camelot were great at curing all sorts of illnesses. Perhaps it would be able to heal her mother. Then Elyan would stop running away and Dad would stop crying.

The walk to the forest was long and Gwen began to question her decision to go alone. She probably should have asked Elyan to go with her. Night was falling, she hadn’t told her Dad where she was and she suspected she was lost. Part of her was tempted to turn around and just go back home. But if she did, then her mother wouldn’t get the flowers.

“Who are you? Why are you here at this time of the night?”

She turned, her heart pounding. Quickly whipping out the small dagger her Dad had given her, she levelled it at the stranger.

“Who are you?”

A swift movement and her dagger was knocked out of her hand and instead, she was standing with a sword at her throat.

“Not very smart threatening the prince is it?” the voice sneered at her before lowering his sword.

Immediately, she dropped into a curtsy. “Your highness,” she murmured.

“You’re the blacksmith’s daughter. Aren’t you a little far from home?” His voice had softened and he looked at her curiously, “it’s getting late and it’s not safe.”

“I need to get some of those purple flowers for my mother. She’s sick and they’ll heal her,” she stuck out her chin mutinously at him.

Arthur looked a little taken aback by her attitude. After a second which he spent studying her curiously, he muttered, “Come on then. I’ll go with you. You’re just a little girl. I’ll protect you.”

Grateful for his company, Gwen resisted the impulse to retort that she didn’t need any little boy protecting her.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Warm.

That was the first thought that passed through her mind when she opened her eyes. She found herself all wrapped up in a blanket, one softer than the one she owned, on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. Her body ached and she could feel a slight pounding in her head.

“Hey.”

She turned towards the voice.

Lancelot. Her betrothed.

She should be happier to see him but all she could feel was apprehension. And she didn’t know why.

“Where am I? What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Lancelot watched her, a wariness in his eyes. Then, he was beside her, one hand covering hers gently. His other hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as he stared deeply into her eyes.

She shook her head, then groaned as her head throbbed in response. The intensity in his eyes unnerved her slightly and she looked away, pretending to study the room she was in. It was a luxurious room, almost like Arthur’s.

Arthur. An indistinct image flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. She wondered if he was here as well. Then she wondered why she cared since she was pretty sure he didn’t care.

“You foolishly decided to come after me,” Lancelot smiled warmly, “I’m touched. But we’re in the middle of a huge war my darling. You should be back in Camelot, where it’s safe.”

A memory licked at the edges of her brain. There was Lancelot riding off on his horse. A red cape fluttering. A daisy. A kiss. Tears.

“How is she?”

She looked up towards the voice, startled from her thoughts.

“My lord,” Lancelot rose and bowed deeply, “Guinevere appears to be fine. Thanks to you. Gwen, you should thank Prince Arthur. It was he who found you after your horse was discovered.” He reached down to grab her hand, entwining his fingers in hers.

For reasons unknown to her, her heart seemed to have stopped and she could feel a blush rising as she stared at Arthur. Something hung in the air between them but she couldn’t define it. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“There’s no need,” Arthur said curtly, his eyes focused on their clasped hands. A quick nod at Lancelot and he left the room as quickly as he entered. The door slammed in his wake.

“It’s the upcoming battle. Arthur’s been worrying over it for weeks,” Lancelot murmured, “You should rest.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and soon he too was gone, leaving Gwen confused and shaken.

She slept fitfully that night, plagued with images of the red Camelot flag, Lancelot, knights riding off, desperate kisses, a daisy, Merlin saying everything will be alright, smoke. Nothing that made any sense.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Thank you Gwen. That will be all.”

“Have a good night Lady Morgana.” Gwen gave a quick bow and left the room. Hopefully, with the potion from Gaius, Morgana would have a more restful sleep. She had stayed the night last night and really wanted to be able to spend some time with Dad this evening.

Things were different after Gwen’s mother passed away. Elyan had fled Camelot as soon as he could, taking with him a sword and some money. Occasionally, a travelling merchant would pass through Camelot with a message from him. Dad spent a lot more time at the forge and while he seemed to take mother’s death and Elyan’s disappearance quite calmly, Gwen noticed the taut lines on his face and the loneliness in his eyes.

Gathering some of the leftovers from the kitchens, Gwen made her way out of the castle. It was later than she liked but she was still glad to be able to go home for the night.

“Still wandering around alone late at night I see.”

A smile crept across her face as she turned around to face the Prince. She curtsied immediately.

“Sire.”

He fell into step with her and they made the silent walk to the edge of the middle town under the cover of darkness. It was a routine they had established ever since he persuaded Morgana to take Gwen on as a handmaiden. In all reality, Gwen didn’t need his protection walking home - the road was a safe one and there were always guards within shouting distance. Yet, every evening, Arthur would walk her home. Some days they talked, about everything and nothing. Other times, like today, they would walk in companionable silence.

Yet, despite their evening meetings, Gwen was well aware that they weren’t friends. She still addressed him by his title and they never interacted unless they were completely alone. Occasionally, it hurt but she accepted that this was how things had to be.

“I should go now.” He never walked her all the way home, often leaving her at the border between the middle town and the lower town. As she always did, she curtsied and turned to walk the rest of the way back. She never stopped to question why her heart was pounding so hard or why she was smiling to herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The smell of soup tickled her nose and she forced her eyes open. Relief washed over her when she saw Merlin hovering with a bowl in his hands.

“You’re alright then?” He broke into a grin and for the first time since she found herself here, she smiled happily back.

“Physically, yes. Just a little sore.”

He put the bowl on the table nearby and helped her sit up before settling himself on the bed next to her. “Brilliant. Actually I’m glad you’re here. We could do with some help.”

“Merlin …”

“I’m not asking you to fight or anything but we really need someone to stay here and manage the supplies, the injured, the servants and so on. We could station some of the knights here but I think the more of them out on the battlefield, the better. And Arthur doesn’t trust the servants here.” He shoved a spoonful of soup at her, giving her little choice but to gulp the hot soup down.

“Merlin. You know I’d love to help but only if you answer my questions.”

A strange look flickered across Merlin’s face and she could almost see his mind churning. Abandoning the soup, he grabbed her hands in his. “Look, I know Arthur is an idiot and he really should never have opened his stupid mouth after all these years of cowardice but for some reason he felt he could not go off to battle without telling you. I told him no good will come of it and of course he’s now moping in his room blaming himself for your accident. And there’s …”

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice thundered down the halls, “Merlin! Where are you? You were supposed to be checking on the supplies! Must I do everything myself around here?”

Jumping off the bed, Merlin shoved the bowl of soup at Gwen. “Whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here! I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait Merlin!”

But he darted out of the room leaving Gwen all alone and even more confused.

Sighing, she finished her soup. She hated not remembering. Something had happened and that something had made her make the trip to this place, in the middle of a brewing war. The war she remembered - Lancelot had told her about how Odin had formed an alliance with Morgana and Morgause and was planning an attack on Camelot. Thanks to the spy network Arthur had established in Odin’s kingdom, he had gotten word of this attack early.

But the questions swirled around her mind. Why was she here? What was it that Arthur had told her? Did she really come for Lancelot? Most importantly, why was she feeling the need to avoid Lancelot, especially when they were going to be married after the battle?

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was tournament time in Camelot and Gwen was excited. Normally, she enjoyed the tournaments just like many other citizens of Camelot but this year, things were different. For the first time, she was going to get to sit in the royal box as handmaiden to Morgana. And if she was really honest with herself, she was very eager to see Prince Arthur compete. While she knew that Prince Arthur had been boasting loudly to his knights about how he was going to dominate the tournament, during the last walk she had taken with him, he had suggested that he was less than confident, fearing he would let his father down in public.

As the competitors gathered for the opening ceremony, Gwen found it hard to sit still and she could feel Morgana’s eyes on her. Biting her lip, she tried to calm her nerves. Part of her wanted to catch Arthur’s eye but she knew how Arthur would resolutely ignore her in public and thought better of it.

“You seem more nervous than the competitors,” mused Morgana as she looked over at Gwen, “Do you perhaps have a beau involved?”

Gwen flushed and shook her head.

“Come on Gwen,” laughed Morgana, “You’re blushing. Which one is it? I won’t tell anyone.”

When Gwen refused to indulge Morgana, Morgana began pointing out the various competitors, regaling Gwen with what she thought was their best attributes.

“Right and that’s Arthur, you know that prat of a brother I have. Unfortunately he has no redeeming qualities at all,” Morgana said mockingly, “so I’m pretty sure it’s not him that’s got you all excited. Personally I think Sir Gavin of Fairfax is particularly … skilled.”

The horn sounded, signalling the start of the tournament. It also ended Morgana’s prying.

As the tournament progressed, Gwen realised that Arthur’s bragging wasn’t misplaced at all. He easily worked his way through his opponents, barely breaking a sweat. His last match was nail-bitingly close fought and Gwen gripped her chair, her leg jiggling in nervousness as she watched Arthur come close to losing the round.

“I am beginning to suspect that you have developed some affection for my brother!”

“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed although she felt the heat rise in her face.

“Well, then you’re more sensible than some of the other servants. No point wanting something that would never happen. Arthur’s going to have to marry for the good of Camelot. Poor boy. Although I feel sorrier for the princess stuck with him.”

Gwen thought she must have eaten too much for lunch when her stomach sank at Morgana’s words. A cheer went up through the crowd and Gwen watched with great relief as Prince Arthur helped his opponent up from the ground. He had won.

“Gwen! Come here,” Morgana called out to her during the evening feast, unconcerned that Gwen was supposed to be working. As Gwen approached her, Morgana grabbed her hand and she found herself face to face with a dark-haired, handsome stranger. “This,” Morgana declared with a flourish and a sly grin, “is Lancelot. Lancelot, this is Gwen. She was very taken by your performance against the Prince today. Pity you didn’t manage to beat him.” With those words, Morgana left Gwen alone with Lancelot.

“My lady.” Lancelot bent and kissed her hand.

No one had ever called her a lady or kissed her hand. She smiled shyly at Lancelot, suddenly unsure of what she should do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Convinced that either way, his kingdom, halfway between Camelot and Odin’s, was going to be collateral in the battle between the two, King Fredrick had decided on an alliance with Camelot. In return for Camelot’s protection and assurance that his kingdom will remain independent, King Fredrick allowed Prince Arthur to use his castle and fort as a base.

With her physical injuries healed, Gwen found herself in charge of a group of servants preparing the infirmary. Grimacing to herself, she had to admit that the constant attacks Camelot suffered after Morgana’s betrayal had made her more than competent in this area. In contrast, King Fredrick had managed to delicately manage relations with everyone and had not been involved in any major battles in decades. It was no wonder his people were on the edge.

As hard as she tried, she still couldn’t remember anything much of the past few weeks. The strange dreams persisted but she had little time to ponder them as she was kept busy with preparations for the upcoming battle. Lancelot had come by now and then to see her and while he had been nothing but affectionate and kind, there was a strange tension between them but he never spoke of her lost memories. She still enjoyed his company and at times, as they laughed over a shared memory, she would forget the awkwardness that lingered. Other times, she would catch Lancelot staring at her but the moment he noticed her looking, he would smile and look away. Several times a day, she would start to ask Lancelot what had happened between them but the sadness in his eyes and the suspicion she was the one who caused the sadness stopped her. He was riding out to battle soon. He didn’t need her making things even more complicated.

Prince Arthur, in contrast, avoided her completely except times when there was no choice. Like Lancelot, she caught him staring sullenly at her. Unlike with Lancelot, she found herself sneaking glances at him whenever she could, studying the lines on his face, his eyes, his hair, everything. She could always feel his eyes on her when he stared. She wondered if he could feel hers. When their eyes met, his gaze would turn cold and his jaw would tense up. Something had happened between them, of that she was sure but she could not imagine what. They had drifted apart over the years. He was no longer the young boy who in some ways, had become her closest companion. The young boy had grown into someone regal, commanding and distant. Someone who seemed very angry with her. And for some reason that hurt.

After spending hours ensuring the infirmary was stocked and teaching the servants how to treat some common injuries, Gwen was exhausted and eager to get some rest. Her stomach clenched when she thought of the next day. Tomorrow would be the last day of preparations and the day after, the knights from both kingdoms would ride out to take the battle to Odin and the sisters.

She pasted a smile on her face as the other servants took their leave. They didn’t need to know that Camelot was less than confident about the outcome of the upcoming battle. Taking one last look at the make-shift infirmary, she sighed and left for her room. As always, she had to pass by Arthur’s room and as she had done the past two days, she hesitated outside it. There was a part of her that urged her to knock, to speak to Arthur, to demand an explanation for all the tension between the three of them. Then, there was the more sensible part of her, the one that said don’t rock the boat.

As she stood outside the door in turmoil, the door suddenly swung open and Merlin darted out yelling, “You know it’s the only solution so I don’t know why you are being so stubborn about it.”

“I am not having you put at so much risk! There must be another way. We just …” Prince Arthur stalked out, hot on Merlin’s heel before he noticed Gwen.

Merlin glanced at the two of them, smirked, muttered a quick goodbye and disappeared.

“Guinevere, were you looking for me?” His tone cooled and a mask fell over his face, “Is everything in order?”

Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps it was the frustration of not remembering. Gwen felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and she desperately wished she hadn’t lingered outside his room.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The one and only time she had been to Prince Arthur’s room was the night her dad was killed by the royal guards. She had been sick with grief and anger and after burying her Dad, she found herself unable to go back to her empty home. He had found her sitting on the steps of the courtyard, staring blankly at the sky.

When she saw him, her anger at his inability to stop the King from executing her innocent father bubbled over and for the first time that day, she cried, her fists hitting him over and over again. She cried, over the death of her father, over the fact that she didn’t know how to contact Elyan, over how she had no family left, over how she wanted to hate Prince Arthur but couldn’t.

As she drowned in her grief, she felt the Prince lifting her up. He was saying something but she had no idea what. All she could remember was him holding her and letting her cry until she could cry no more.

The next morning, she awoke in his bed, under luxurious blankets, tucked in his embrace. She could feel his breath against her neck, the weight of his arm across her waist. He was still fast asleep when she woke and she indulged herself. There was a peacefulness in his face she rarely saw and hesitantly, she reached out a finger to touch his cheek, dragging it down to his lips. He was a beautiful man and she adored him.

She adored him completely.

Panic rose in her and immediately she slipped out from the blankets and quietly left the room. It was with great relief that no one noticed her leaving his room. She couldn’t believe herself. How many times had she told herself she couldn’t let this happen? No. She had just been through an awful day and she was simply overreacting to Prince Arthur’s kindness and care. She was sensible, practical Gwen and she wouldn’t do anything as stupid as to fall for someone she couldn’t have.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Prince Arthur stared at her, waiting for a response. When it appeared that none was forthcoming, he turned and made to open his door. It was tempting to just let him go back into his room, to pretend nothing was wrong. It would be so much easier than stirring up memories that it appeared no one wanted to remember.

But before she could say anything, he hesitated, mumbling something into the door.

“Sire?”

“You should stay away from me,” his voice was rough and he continued to stare at his door.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“Yes! No!” Reluctantly, he turned to face her and she winced at the expression on his face.

“Sire.” Unknowingly, she stepped closer to him, wanting to stop him from hurting. But he flinched and she dropped back, the tears threatening to spill over again.

“It’s nothing you have done.”

“Then,” she sucked in a breath. It was now or never. “Tell me what happened. I don’t even know why I am here!”

He let out a curt, almost bitter laugh. “Why don’t you ask Lancelot then? He’s your betrothed. You should be discussing such things with him. Not me. And as he said, you came for him.”

“And that makes you angry? Because I came all the way here for him? We used to be friends, Sire. And even when we stopped being friends, you’ve never been so cold and angry with me.” The tears she had tried so hard to contain slipped down her cheeks.

“Were we ever friends? Guinevere, you are a servant. I am a prince as you often reminded me. How can we be friends?” He was in her space, cupping her face gently, his thumb wiping her tears away. He sighed, “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. You want to know what …”

Footsteps echoed along the corridor and she stepped back, her eyes cast downwards.

“I should go.” He nodded at the passing guard and darted into his room, leaving her a swirling mess of emotions.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The death of her Dad marked the beginning of summer. It also marked a number of changes in the various relationships in her life. Perhaps the most painful and shocking was the betrayal of Camelot by Morgana. On one hand, Gwen had been privy to her discontent and anger with King Uther and his stance against the magic users; it never occurred to Gwen that she would so easily switch sides. One moment she was chatting with Morgana about which dress she wanted to wear the next day and the next, Camelot was under attack by Cenred’s forces she had let in. Although it was not something she spoke to anyone about, Gwen was horribly shaken by Morgana’s easy betrayal. She had thought Morgana was more friend than Lady but obviously she had fooled herself.

She suspected she might have fooled herself over Prince Arthur too.

Her stomach churned whenever she saw the Prince and in her more honest moments, she would wonder how she was foolish enough to fall for him. No matter how kind and tender he was with her, she was nothing more than a servant, dispensable. She was dispensable to Morgana. She was probably dispensable to him as well. Their evening walks slowly petered out as she found more and more excuses to avoid him and while he seemed confused at the slow evaporation of their relationship, questioning her once or twice, he never pressed the issue in face of her explanation that they were too different. To her, this was just one more sign that she had overestimated his fondness of her. When Princess Elena arrived from Lord Godwyn’s kingdom and rumours flew that Prince Arthur was to enter into a marriage with her, Gwen nursed her broken heart in the darkness of her house alone. She refused to admit how much her day brightened when the Princess left and rumours of the marriage died down.

It wasn’t all bad. Merlin, the Prince’s new manservant, had become a great friend and then there was Lancelot, who with the help of the Prince who had been impressed with his sword skills, had settled down in Camelot, helping out with the castle and training, unofficially, with the knights. She had to admit that Lancelot was a very good-looking man. More importantly, he treated her as if she was the most precious thing in his life and it was a balm for the hurt that resulted from her stupid love for the Prince.

It was a gorgeous summer day and she was on her way to collect some cloth from a merchant. Along her route, she passed the training knights. As she often did, she paused to watch for a while, joining a few of her neighbours who had gathered. Despite knowing better, her eyes fell on Prince Arthur who was taking his knights through some moves and she let herself enjoy the sight of his grace with a sword and the confidence and arrogance he exuded. He wasn’t in armour today and it gave her a chance to watch his muscles flex under the thin, cotton shirt he wore. The moment she realised what she was thinking, she immediately looked away. These were thoughts she shouldn’t be thinking, not if she wanted to get over him. Her eyes met Lancelot and he smiled at her. She smiled back. If she were smart, she would be having fantasies about Lancelot instead.

When training finished, Lancelot strolled over to her, his eyes warm. Leaning on the fence next to her, he grinned. “Nothing brightens up my day like seeing you.”

“How was training?” She flushed slightly. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Prince Arthur laughing with one of the ladies from the court. Immediately, she directed her attention to Lancelot, trying to stop the pain in her chest from showing on her face.

“It was tough but I’m not going to complain. Arthur didn’t need to let me train with them, seeing I could never be a knight …”

“Perhaps when he is King, things will change.” And foolishly, she let her eyes slide over to where he was. When would she stop doing this to herself?

“You have a lot of faith in him.” Lancelot placed his hand over hers gently.

“I believe he will be a better King than his father.”

“Gwen. Look, I don’t know quite how to ask this but is there anything going on between you and the Prince?”

At his question, all the feelings she had for Prince Arthur bubbled up and she choked. All she could manage was a shake of her head.

Lancelot looked suspiciously at her. “He walks you home almost every night. He was just there staring daggers at me,” he said coolly, “I won’t tell anyone but you need to tell me. I need to know if I have a chance with you.”

Her heartbeat sped up and her mind went blank. While Lancelot had been attentive and kind to her over the past few months, he had never spelled out his intentions so clearly.

“Do you love him? I’ve seen the way you gaze at him. I told myself I was imagining things but I need to be sure,” Lancelot shifted, pulling away from the fence, his eyes drilling into her.

“You’re mistaken,” she muttered as she walked away from the field. Lancelot followed her. “There is nothing between Prince Arthur and me. We are barely even friends.” As the words left her lips, she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Really, she was being ridiculous.

Lancelot made a disbelieving noise but stopped when he saw her face.

“Alright,” Lancelot smiled tenderly as he took her hands in his, “I believe you. I was thinking that perhaps we could have dinner together tonight.”

Determined to stop herself from pining for Prince Arthur, she flashed Lancelot as wide a smile as she could manage and agreed.

If she had looked back, she might have seen a desolate looking Prince staring forlornly at the two figures walking off.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The moment she felt Prince Arthur’s touch on her skin, all the feelings she had thought she had sealed away came rushing back. His eyes were tender, almost loving and the feel of his hand on her face sent shivers down her spine. She knew she had leaned into his touch. It was instinctive. In the back of her mind, she could almost feel him bend down and kiss her. Like in her dreams.

In her dreams.

The one with the desperate kisses.

The one with the desperate kisses with Prince Arthur.

The once-fuzzy images cleared up and she saw herself, hands cupping his face, kissing him as if she wanted to devour him, as if she depended on his kiss for her survival. His hands were tangled in her hair, pulling her flush against him.

Guilt flooded her. What had she done? What kind of person was she? To promise herself to one person and kiss another.

How could she wrong Lancelot in this manner? Loving, patient, caring Lancelot who treated her like a princess and constantly avowed his love for her.

She never thought herself capable of such betrayal but apparently she was.

And now she knew why Lancelot was always staring at her with such deep sadness.

Somehow she found herself in the castle gardens all alone. The night breeze brushed against skin, reminding her of all her walks with Prince Arthur all those years ago, of how, in hindsight, she slowly fell for him. She had thought that with the passage of time and with Lancelot, she had gotten rid of those feelings. Whatever affection she had for him, she had told herself, was what any subject would have for their ruler.

She laughed at herself. How many subjects dreamt of kissing their ruler? How many of them itched to sweep their fringe off their forehead? For a year, she had managed to successfully delude herself into believing she no longer loved Prince Arthur. What a fool she was.

The tears she struggled with the whole evening finally found their escape and she allowed herself to sob in the solitude of the darkness. Through the night, she indulged shamelessly in her memories of Prince Arthur and Lancelot. She smiled softly as she recalled the evening walks with the Prince. Warmth rolled through her as she thought of how Lancelot would pick her favourite wildflowers for her. They were both good men so how did she get herself in this mess?

Once the war ended, she was going to have to leave Camelot. Lancelot deserved someone who loved him and not settled for him as second choice. As for Prince Arthur, what future did they have as Prince and servant? She wasn’t even sure how he felt about her.

A sense of calm swept through her once she made her decision and she nodded off, curled in a corner of the castle garden.

Someone was carrying her. She opened her eyes and saw it was Lancelot.

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling. Then she remembered.

“Hey. What were you doing in the garden all night? You could have gotten sick,” Lancelot had that tone - the one he used when he was annoyed but trying not to let it show.

“I can walk,” she wriggled out of his arms. They stood in an uncomfortable silence. “I was just taking a walk last night.”

Lancelot looked up, dragged a hand across his face before calmly replying, “I know you were with Arthur. Again.”

Guilt swamped her again and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“I assume this means you remember what happened.”

“Some,” she admitted reluctantly. “Must we do this now? You should be focused on the upcoming battle.”

“I think,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “that perhaps we need to sort this out now. I don’t need it hanging over my head during the battle. Merlin is depending on me. I need to be fully focused.”

Nodding her head, she walked with him back to her room. He was probably right. There was no point in dragging this out.

“I did think that if I avoided the whole topic and if you didn’t remember what happened, we could continue as we were,” Lancelot said as he stepped into her room and pulled the door close behind him, “but of course, that was foolish of me.”

“I am so sorry,” she still wasn’t sure what exactly happened but nothing could possibly excuse her actions.

“We should sit down,” he gestured to the chairs, before slumping down into one of them. He sucked in a deep breath before continuing, “I was so angry with you and Arthur when I found out.”

Twisting her hands in her lap, she kept silent. There was nothing to say. The pain in his eyes tore at her heart and she wished she could tell him what he wanted to hear. But she needed to stop lying to herself and to Lancelot.

“But I’ve had time to think …”

“Lancelot, I still don’t remember everything that happened before I arrived here. I only … I only remember kissing Prince Arthur …” she looked away, consumed by her emotions.

“Arthur did not tell you? You were with him last night.”

“No, we just had a brief conversation. He said I had to stay away from him and that if I wanted to know what happened, I should talk to you.”

For a while, Lancelot said nothing and simply stared at her. “The night before we rode out here, Arthur, I think, was too tense to sleep. I believe he went for a walk and came across you. I’m not sure what happened, Arthur never said but he did tell me …”

“Wait. Arthur told you?”

A bitter smile crossed his face. “I didn’t need to be told. I saw it happen. But yes, he did come and explain the situation to me. Claimed it was all his fault.”

And when he said that, she remembered why she had ridden out after them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morgana’s powers had grown and with her carefully nurtured alliance with Odin, Camelot was under threat again. Prince Arthur’s spies had reported that most of her power had come from a mysterious crystal she had, allowing her to command various creatures from the dark. The moment Prince Arthur received word of Morgana’s plan, preparations began in Camelot. As he informed the council later, he had every intention of putting a stop to Morgana once and for all and to do so, he was determined to take the battle to her. What resulted were long nights spent planning and long days at training. As part of the castle staff, Gwen too found herself busy with preparations - from smoking and pickling the meats and vegetables to mending the knights’ tunics. The castle was abuzz with activity and there was a sense of hope in the air that their beloved prince would finally lead them to a time of peace.

Although she was not riding out to battle the next day, Gwen was just as nervous and scared. When she found herself wide awake in the wee hours of the night, she thought a walk would calm her nerves. Earlier that day, Lancelot had visited and although he never said it, she knew he was thinking that this might be their last time together. She fussed over him, making him promise that he would take care of himself and hugging him tightly just before he walked out of her house. Merlin too dropped by to say his farewell later and the by the time he left, her emotions were running high.

She wished fervently that she could see Prince Arthur once before the battle, to tell him she had faith he would be successful, to tell him that he meant the world to her. Deep down inside, she feared she would never see him again. Knowing him, she knew he would throw himself into battle with his men and she suspected that he would want to be the one to face Morgana. Unknowingly, she traced the route that she used to take with the Prince when he was still walking her back in the evenings.

“Guinevere.”

At first, she thought she was imagining things but then she felt his hand on her elbow, turning her to face him.

She greeted him with a curtsy, pulling away from his touch. It was doing strange things to her body.

“Sire. Why are you here?”

No answer came from him. Instead, he gazed at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She trembled under his scrutiny and wondered if she should take her leave. But before she could leave, he stepped towards her and she found herself unable to move.

“Sire?”

“Say my name.” His words came out low and soft, his breath brushing against her cheek.

“I …”

“Please. I just want to hear it before I leave.”

How could she deny him?

“Arthur.” A smile spread slowly across his face and she responded with one of her own.

“I like the way you say it. It’s exactly the way I imagined it.” His hand had come up and he played with her curls.

“You’ve imagined it?”

“I’ve imagined many things my dear Guinevere,” he laughed. “Things I know I can never have.” There was a sadness in his voice, even as he smiled at her.

She knew she shouldn’t be standing so close to him but his presence seemed to keep her immobile.

“I hear you agreed to marry Lancelot when he returns from battle. I promise you, I will never let anything happen to him.”

“Thank you your highness.”

“Let’s just pretend that today we’re two ordinary people. Call me Arthur.”

“Arthur.” The word tasted strange on her tongue.

“You love Lancelot?”

“He is a good man.”

“I’d like to think I am a good man too.”

“You are, your … Arthur.” He smiled at that.

“Yet, I am not good enough.”

She frowned at him. Something in his tone suggested he meant more than he was saying but she hesitated to read too much into it. Without her realising, Prince Arthur had taken her hands in his, lightly tugging her close to him. His eyes a mixture of tenderness and uncertainty as he stared down at her upturned face.

“This is completely selfish of me but I think I can only ride off tomorrow in peace if,” he swallowed and looked away, “if I tell you this. I hope that you forgive me and find it in your heart not to hate me.”

Confused she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “I could never hate you Arthur.”

That seemed to ease something in him. A wry smile crossed his face and he said the words that tore her life apart.

“I love you Guinevere and I think I always have.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

As Lancelot slowly, painfully revealed what he knew, the images slowly played out in her mind and the memories came rushing back - the complex mix of emotions Prince Arthur’s declaration had elicited in her, her initial burst of euphoria quickly washed out by the reality of their situation, the anger and frustration that replaced it and the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

“I think I’ve always known that you love him.”

Be honest she had told her herself and the time was now. “Yes. I think I’ve always loved him.”

“Right. Why did you lie to me Gwen?” His calm tone belied the pain in his eyes, “Did you think that I would do because you couldn’t have him?”

“Yes.” She shut her eyes, unable to bring herself to look at the damage she had caused. Lancelot sighed in response and she could picture him burying his face in his hands. Her heart clenched. What had she done to him?

“So you never loved me?”

“Lancelot, I never set out to hurt you. And I do love you, just, not in the same way.”

He let out a short laugh, “Like a brother then?”

“Lancelot …” She wanted to touch him, to hug him, to tell him just how sorry she was for causing all this pain and misery but she couldn’t move, “I don’t know what to say.”

He moved suddenly, dragging his chair closer to her and taking one hand in his. “Then don’t say anything. Listen to me. I love you Gwen. You are the one thing that gives my life meaning. The one thing that brightens my day. I know you say you love the Prince and perhaps he thinks he loves you back, but you must know that nothing is going to come out of it. You are a servant in the castle, he’s going to be King one day.”

Pausing, he looked at her as if waiting for her to respond. Her throat tight and her eyes burning, she simply nodded, unsure of what Lancelot was getting at.

“What I am trying to say is that, I love you and I know you care for me. And we’ve been happy the past year together. Perhaps, we can work this out.”

Whatever it was she expected from Lancelot, it wasn’t this.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“I love you Guinevere and I think I always have.”

She stared at Prince Arthur, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through her. She knew she should leave, tell him that she was with Lancelot now, tell him it was too late for them but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she stood there dumbly.

Slowly, as if giving her a chance to escape, he lowered his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. She felt it in her toes and without thinking, leaned into it. The moment she felt his lips on hers, her mind emptied. His hand came up and cupped her face gently as he deepened the kiss. They must have moved because her body was pressed tightly against him, her hands in his hair. Someone’s heart was pounding and all she could think of was how perfect this was. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, it was all she could do to stop drowning in the sensations he was evoking in her.

It was heaven.

They pulled apart slightly, their breaths mingling as they rested their foreheads on each other.

“Do you love me?” His thumb brushed across her lips.

And then she remembered Lancelot. The man she was going to marry.

Wrenching away from Prince Arthur, she took several steps back, trying to settle the rush of emotions in her.

“We cannot … Lancelot,” she gasped, “I am going to marry Lancelot.”

She could see in his face that reality had set in. Pain, followed by guilt, crossed his face and he turned away from her.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he bit out, a hint of anger in his voice, “I am so sorry. I just … I’ve ruined everything …”

“I have to go Sire.” Her head was throbbing and she wasn’t thinking clearly, not when all she could think of was the feel of Prince Arthur against her. With those words, she hurried away, her mind in turmoil and her vision blurred by her tears.

“How long has this been going on?” She looked up and saw Lancelot leaning almost casually against a wall. Tension radiated from him and his eyes were cold and angry, “how long have you been seeing the Prince behind my back?”

On the ground, a daisy lay crushed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

With complete disregard for her own safety, she had ridden out after them, determined to make things right with Lancelot. But now that he was offering her a way to do that, she knew she couldn’t take it. It might be the easier route but it wasn’t the right one. It wouldn’t be fair to him to have to live with a wife whose heart belonged to someone else. He might say it didn’t matter now, but it mattered to her.

“I can’t Lancelot. I wish I could, but I can’t”

“So you’re going to him then.”

“No. You are right. Nothing can happen between us. But this has nothing to do with him. I cannot be with you because I don’t love you the way you want me to. I wish I did because any girl would be lucky to have you as a husband.” Somewhere along the line, she had started crying. “I am so sorry I led you to think we had a future together.”

He stood up and walked to the door, his last words, carrying an undercurrent of anger pierced her heart.

“I wish you’d realised this sooner.”

Before dawn, the knights gathered in the courtyard, awaiting their last orders before they made the journey to Odin’s lands. She watched from a distance as Prince Arthur rallied the troops, her pride swelling at how his knights responded to him. He was a natural leader, all confidence and charm. The knights were divided into two groups - the smaller group, including Merlin, to be led by Lancelot while the rest were to be led by Prince Arthur.

She stood with the rest of the civilians as Lancelot’s group moved off. Wives and children sniffled and hugged each other, waving tearily at their departing loved ones. Merlin gave her a thumbs up and a quick wave before he rode off. Lancelot ignored her. Despite it all, his snub hurt and she moved from the crowd, eager to return to the castle where work would keep her busy.

Her thoughts elsewhere, she barely noticed it when Prince Arthur stopped her along the castle corridor.

“Guinevere.”

“Sire.” His jaw clenched at her address.

“Lancelot came to speak with me this morning. He said that the two of you …”

“We are going our separate ways,” she managed to choke out. It was the right decision but the great sense of loss that accompanied it still stung.

He said nothing, his face expressionless. A horn sounded and he turned to the courtyard.

“I have to go now.”

“Yes.” That was all she could say without dissolving into tears. She wanted to tell him to take care, that she loved him but nothing would come out.

A slight smile crossed his face and he tugged at her curls, like he did all those years ago when he walked her home.

“We’ll win and I’ll be back.” And he left, his red cape billowing behind him.

She stood alone in the courtyard and watched him ride out till she could no longer see him. The sun crept up over the horizon and she lingered, soaking in its warmth.


End file.
